As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (20 page)

As she ran into the bar, Kenny took his car key out of his pocket.

‘We’re not going yet, are we?’ she asked him.

‘’Fraid so,’ he said, tossing it from hand to hand. ‘We’ll hit too much traffic, otherwise.’

Danny swung round the bar to say goodbye to her. But all she could hear as he hugged her to him was a manic voice in her head screaming:
Alex!

‘Hey, don’t look so sad,’ said Danny, dulling it. ‘I’m sure you’ll be back soon.’

Kenny drummed his fingers on the bar.

The next few minutes blurred into one. Lots of people in the lobby all talking at once. Jack Byrnes shaking their hands and telling Abi to give his regards to her boss and his wife. Bernard, bantering with Kenny about golf. The young doorman grimacing at Abi’s pink Samsonite and staring at Rebecca as if she were a film star. Being associated with Alex had elevated her popularity, it seemed. Even The Doberman was joining in, albeit through gnashing teeth. It was like being at a pantomime.

‘Why don’t you pop outside and get some air,’ Abi said to her. ‘We won’t be long.’ She put up her hand before Rebecca could say anything. ‘I know you’re hurting like hell. Believe me, if I could get Alex back here I would, but he’s gone, so let’s just get home, yeah?’

Rebecca nodded, expressionless.

She plodded outside, the random thought entering her mind of what to say if Greg asked her how she’d got home from King’s Cross. It would be bad enough telling him they hadn’t got the train, let alone that they’d hitched a ride with some bloke from Bethnal Green they’d only met on Saturday.

Chances were Greg wouldn’t even mention it, unless she was spotted on the M6 by one of his sales colleagues, hanging on for grim death in the back of Kenny’s Range Rover.

She dug around in her bag, hoping she might discover a rogue cigarette. If she could find her bloody lighter it might help. Lip gloss. Mascara. Packet of Tunes …

She heard someone whistle and looked up to see Alex walking across the car park towards her. She’d been so busy rooting through her bag, she’d missed him drive in.

Without thinking, she ran down the steps and flung her arms round his neck.

He kissed the top of her head then broke free. ‘Let’s sit in the car,’ he said, eyes swivelling round. ‘Even Hawksley Manor turns up the odd pap these days. The last thing you need right now is someone photographing us.’

They got into the Jag. Rebecca peered through the tinted windscreen at the last few people bustling towards the manor.

‘I’m sorry for sounding so clinical in the gardens,’ she said.

‘Don’t be,’ said Alex. ‘I take it you got my card?’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘Here, take this.’ He grabbed his Paul Weller CD off the dashboard and handed it to her.
Studio 150
– the cover versions one she’d earlier mentioned not owning to him.

‘Are you sure?’ she said, glowing inside.

‘Just don’t play it in Kenny’s car, or you’ll be hitchhiking home from York.’

She stared into his impassioned eyes. ‘That’s very sweet of you.’

They’d become so lost in the moment that they hadn’t seen Kenny and Abi approaching.

Alex buzzed down his window.

‘The wanderer returns,’ said Kenny, stooping to acknowledge Rebecca too. ‘I hate to break up the party, but—’

‘Just coming,’ said Rebecca, before she caused a fuss. She saw Alex’s face cloud over as she opened the passenger door.

He got out of the car and accompanied her to Kenny’s Range Rover.

‘Bit of a tight squeeze, isn’t it?’ he said, seeing Abi’s suitcase in the back of it.

‘That’s because
he
,’ said Abi, pointing at Kenny,
‘has got about two hundred golf clubs in there.’

‘Oi, I heard that.’ Kenny lobbed Rebecca’s blue holdall into the boot, then checked his watch. ‘Come on, people, time we weren’t here.’

Abi perched her sunglasses on top of her head. ‘Nice to have met you, Alex.’ She gave him a lingering hug. Then, surprising herself, as well as everyone else, ‘Come on, you Rangers!’

They all laughed, even though Rebecca was struggling to accept that this was finally it.

‘Take it easy, Millsy,’ said Alex, shepherding her and Abi into the big four-by-four. ‘And I don’t just mean your driving.’

‘No sweat, big man. I hear you, and I’m sorting it. Give us a bell from Spain, yeah?’

Rebecca’s head shot up. ‘
Spain?
’

‘Yeah, I’m going early next Monday morning,’ said Alex. ‘Pre-season trip.’

She wished him luck, discreetly thanking him for the CD, which she’d popped in her bag alongside the little card he’d written her.

Kenny started the engine, revving it like a boy racer.

Rebecca forced a smile.

Do. Not. Want. To. Go.

‘Take care,’ said Alex, leaning in the back to kiss her cheek.

Reluctant to let go of him, she buried her face in his neck.

Abi threaded her hand between the seats. ‘Time to leave, honey.’

Embarrassed by her lack of restraint, Rebecca pulled away from him and drew her seat belt across her.

‘Just go,’ said Abi, placing her hand over Kenny’s.

Alex backed away from the car and smiled at them all.

As Kenny drove out of the car park amid the first spots of rain they’d seen all weekend, Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, knowing a very special chapter in her life had been written.

Half an hour into the journey home, Rebecca could feel her eyelids drooping which, considering how loud Kenny’s music was, defied belief. Then again, she’d probably have slept through a drummers’ convention.

According to Abi, who’d gently prodded her awake outside East Croydon station, not even their short stop for a takeaway coffee and quick wee at a motorway service station had roused her.

‘I thought it best Kenny didn’t screech to a halt outside your house,’ Abi had said, guiding her into the back of a beeswax-scented taxi.

Rebecca had felt a bit guilty. She could hardly remember getting out of Kenny’s car and couldn’t even be sure if she’d thanked him. She just knew when she arrived back in Purley clutching her holdall ten minutes later, that she was home, it was raining, and that upon turning her key in the front door after waving Abi off and then seeing the state of her kitchen, she’d have given anything to have hopped on the first train back to York.

Greg had only been home twenty-four hours, yet had managed to use nearly every mug, side-plate and spoon they owned. Lazy thing hadn’t even unpacked his holdall. He’d left it by the washing machine for her to sort out.

She’d noticed the answerphone flashing on her way in, and walked into the lounge to investigate. Six messages, five of them party-related, the sixth from Mum welcoming her back and saying she’d give Rebecca a call tomorrow.

God, Pearl’s party.

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t faze Rebecca, but then ordinarily she wouldn’t be re-evaluating her life.

She made herself some toast and marmite to ward off the hunger pangs, sinking a pint of water between mouthfuls to dull the muzzy headache pestering her temples. On autopilot, she tidied the kitchen, unpacked and loaded the washing machine and stuffed hers and Abi’s dresses into a carrier bag ready for the dry cleaners. Greg’s liqueurs and whisky she hid in the breadbin.

She unzipped her handbag on the breakfast bar, clearing it of old ticket stubs, sweet wrappers and tissues. She curled her fingers around the CD Alex had given her, thumbing the edge of it. She’d leave it there for now. The card he’d written lay next to it. She studied the swirl of his handwriting.
‘If you should ever need to contact me.’

She tucked it away in the little pouch at the back of the personal address book she kept in one of the bag’s inside pockets, and went upstairs.

A nice, long soak – that’s what she needed.

She ran herself a coconut fragranced bath, and spent the next forty minutes submerged in bubbles, trying to block out the image of Alex’s face as she contemplated the impending chat with Greg she planned to have.

At least it had stopped raining.

Clothed in her favourite pink jog suit, she padded back downstairs, and slumped on the sofa, trying to kid herself the only reason she’d switched on the telly was to catch
EastEnders
, which she watched for a whole minute, before feverishly tuning in to
Sky Sports News
. The ever-smiling presenters reeled off details about pre-season football fixtures. Statton Rangers’ trip to La Manga was mentioned, but nothing on Alex personally. She flicked over to Sky Sports 1 then 2 then 3, almost dropping the remote control when she saw Greg’s car swing onto the drive.

Jeez!
Was it that late already?

She could hear him whistling as he slammed the front door shut, a revelation in itself.

‘Bex, where are you?’

‘In the lounge,’ she hollered, rising to greet him.

He charged into the room. ‘Guess what?’ He picked her up, twirled her round and planted a big smacker on her lips, bumping foreheads with her.

‘
What?
’ she asked, stunned at the transformation in him. Was she in the right house?

Greg shook his tie loose, walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large Scotch.

‘Oh, come on. Don’t keep me on tenterhooks,’ said Rebecca.

He faced her with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘Rutland and Torrison,’ he said, kicking off his shoes. Rebecca thought he was going to click his heels together he looked so jubilant. ‘Rutland and
Torr-i-son
.’

‘I take it Torrison is the supplier you were hoping to impress at the conference? You said something about it ages ago, but never really expanded on it, something about a possible merger or takeover, was it?’

‘Neither. Torrison want Rutland to be their sole finance company. They’ll supply the products and a fair few illustrious clients to add to our existing list, who in turn will lease the equipment through ourselves. We’ve been after a joint project like this for years. As for hoping to impress them, I bloody did impress them. Big time!’ His smirk advanced to a grin as he knocked back his Scotch and licked the residue from his lips. ‘Although there is a downside.’ He left his empty tumbler on the cabinet surface and came towards her, adopting a serious look – one she’d grown accustomed to.

‘Oh?’ She stared up into cautious brown eyes, hoping to second-guess him.

‘Nina O’Donnell.’

‘Your ex? Sorry love, you’ve lost me.’

Greg placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘She works for Torrison. She was one of the marketing reps who attended the conference. I should have told you ages ago, but I knew you’d worry like hell about me, and it wasn’t even assured that Torrison would go for it, anyway. Then when you and Abi said about going to York, well, I didn’t want to spoil it.’ He ruffled her hair like a concerned father. ‘These last few months have been such a slog at times.’

You don’t say, Greg!

‘Still,’ he said, the energy returning to his voice. ‘It’ll all be worth it.’

‘Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming. You and Nina working together. Are you serious, Greg? You’ll be done for manslaughter.’

‘I know. Ironic, isn’t it?
But
, however thorny it may get, business is business. I’ll hardly see her, which is good. I’ll be away a lot more over the next few weeks, co-supervising any teething issues and new contracts. Birmingham, Leeds and Manchester, mainly.’ Rebecca didn’t even bother opening her mouth. ‘Means we’ll have to postpone the holiday, I’m afraid. Dreadful timing, I know, but I can’t let Rutland down when they’ve awarded me and my lovely wife a trip to Venice, now, can I?’
Ah, the sweetener.
‘Top sales figures, fourth year running, Bex.’

Dumbfounded by his ability to shoehorn in several whammies inside a minute, when she’d been wrestling with her conscience over Alex for hours, and at how he’d erased, without apology, every cold shoulder and barbed comment he’d chucked her way, Rebecca was right to suspect there was more to follow.

Greg would be dashing between Manchester and Leeds this Wednesday to Friday, solely lumbering her with sorting out any remaining plans for his mother’s party on Saturday.

‘I can pick up all the food, sort the cake and do any phone-calling,’ she said, stemming the manic laughter rising in her throat, ‘which’ll mainly be to those relatives of yours who need directions to Purley, but I’ll never fit all the booze in my car as well, especially the beers. We’ll need your boot space for that.’

‘I’ll be home Friday lunchtime. We can get it then,’ he said, his tinge of exasperation distinct.

Fine!

‘So, how did Nina react when she saw you?’ asked Rebecca, curiosity getting the better of her.

Greg theatrically groaned. ‘To be honest, we barely spoke to each other. I mean, that’ll change as time goes on. We’ll have to be adult about things, put our differences and the past aside. I’m sure she and her team will need to contact me on occasion – especially in the early stages. Pitfalls of the job, unfortunately. Case of having to grin and bear it. As I said, business is business.’

‘Yes, well it might not be quite as simple as that,’ said Rebecca, failing to see how this particular coalition could possibly work.

‘Bex, no disrespect, but I’ve had time to get used to the idea. You don’t need to concern yourself with me being able to cope with Nina O’Donnell.’

‘Even if she’s calling the shots?’

‘She won’t be!’ Greg already had one hand on the doorframe.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Shower. And when I come down, can we talk about something other than my ex, please?’

Oh, dear. Now she’d pissed him off.

‘Well, before you do, I’ve brought you a little something back from York,’ she said, hoping to reverse the damage, thinking ahead to her chat with him. Far better he be amenable.

‘Christ. Sorry, love, I haven’t even asked you about it, have I?’ He followed her into the kitchen. ‘Clearly you got home all right?’

Quick – give him the whisky, Rebecca.

‘Fine thanks,’ she said, rummaging in the breadbin.

Greg’s eyes shone as she handed him his gifts. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

‘Yes, well make sure you save me a liqueur,’ she said, flicking on the kettle.

He sidled up to her. ‘I will make it up to you, you know,’ he slid his hand down her back, letting it rest on her bottom, ‘about the holiday and everything.’

Everything?

‘Go and have your shower,’ she said, more sharply than intended.

Her anger didn’t fully surface until she heard the bathroom door close. Yet, regardless of wanting to throttle him for being so blasé about all his news, a large part of her felt relieved. Relieved that he hadn’t quizzed her about York. Relieved that he’d be away during the week and, if she was completely honest with herself, relieved that they were no longer going to Cyprus. Factor in the Nina situation and no wonder her brain ached.

Now on top of all that, it looked like he might want sex.

On the other hand, he’d come back downstairs with his mobile phone glued to his ear, so more likely he’d spend the rest of the evening talking shop with his colleagues.

Either way, her tête-à-tête with him would have to wait.

Rebecca noticed through her sleepy haze the following morning that Greg was already suited and set to go. She propped herself up on one elbow. ‘I need to talk to you this evening.’

‘About what?’ She heard the flatness in his voice, saw him glance pointedly at his watch.

‘I’m not going into it now, Greg. What time will you be home?’ She was determined to pin him down before he went up north the following day. Preferably without giving anything away to him beforehand. She wanted true reactions to her questions about their future, not staged ones.

‘Not sure,’ he said. ‘A group of us are going out to lunch to discuss Phase One of the venture, so I definitely won’t want dinner tonight. Sevenish, give or take. Could be later though, depending on what happens afterwards. There’s so much to either organise or be party to; meetings to schedule, legal stuff, press releases, etc.’

Rebecca bit her tongue. ‘Okay. See you tonight then.’

As soon as he’d gone, she got up and showered, promising herself that whatever else happened that day, she would
not
tune into
Sky Sports News
.

By eight o’clock she was sitting in front of the PC, mug of coffee by her side, browsing Statton Rangers’ website, where she remained until Abi called her on her mobile just after eleven, saw straight through Rebecca’s false bonhomie, and announced that she’d be round in half an hour with two massive jam doughnuts.

At eleven thirty on the dot, Abi’s Beetle roared onto the drive.

Rebecca opened the front door to greet her.

‘Snap!’ said Abi. They were both wearing jeans and black T-shirts. ‘Get that kettle on, girl. I’m gasping.’ She handed Rebecca the paper bag with the doughnuts in it.

They parked themselves at the breakfast bar.

‘So?’ said Abi, licking sugar off her top lip. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s happened, before we indulge in some serious York gossip, or shall I beat it out of you with Greg’s squash racquet?’

Rebecca took a sip of her tea then calmly relayed to Abi, word for word, everything Greg had divulged to her the previous night.

‘Un-be-lievable,’ said Abi, shaking her head. ‘Explains a lot though. Did he not acknowledge what a shit he’s been towards you?’

‘No. Not really. I’ll tackle that bit this evening. I don’t know what shocked me more, the Nina thing or the casual way he slipped it in about cancelling Cyprus.’

‘So, is she going up north with him this week?’

‘I didn’t ask.’ Rebecca knew what Abi was thinking. ‘I very much doubt it, given what he’s said so far about her. I dread to think how it’ll all pan out if and when they spectacularly fall out. Sounds awful, but I was so worried he was going to press me about York, that none of it sunk in until this morning.’

‘All that bloody angst over Alex, eh?’

‘Yes, well whatever you say, I still feel guilty about it.’

‘Well, don’t! And don’t hold back with Greg, either. After last night, what more ammunition do you need? Oh, and by the way, let me know if you need any help with Pearl’s party. Typical Greg. Dumping it all on you like that.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Rebecca, stacking their plates and carrying them over to the sink. ‘It’ll all get done. I’m on window-dressing duty at the shop tomorrow morning, so I’ll tap Lorraine for some balloons and banners and do the shopping and any other running around on Thursday. I can bake Pearl’s cake in the evening. She prefers sponge to fruit, so that’ll help, timewise.’

‘Tearing around from pillar to post as usual, eh?’

Rebecca shrugged. ‘Tell me what happened with Kenny,’ she said, anxious to avoid getting into a lengthy debate about it. ‘I was so disorientated when we got out of the car, I didn’t hear what he was saying to you.’ She sat back down, all ears.

‘We’ve exchanged mobile numbers.’

‘
What?
’

‘I know, I know,’ said Abi, flapping her hands about. ‘But it was awkward. He said as he’s in London for a while, why don’t we have lunch together; said he’d give me a guided tour of his gym in Clapham.’

‘I bet he did. Where’s he staying?’

‘At his flat in Battersea,’ said Abi. ‘And I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry, I won’t do anything irresponsible.’

‘Well, be careful. Funny how he and Alex are such good friends, isn’t it?’